Lois Menzel (26 page)

Arelia directed her next question to Anne. “Is this truly what you want?”

Forced to meet Arelia’s penetrating gaze, Anne answered, “If his lordship wishes it, I agree to wed him.”

“If you have any doubts,” Arelia pursued, “we will seek another solution.”

“If you intend to offer alternative options, Arelia,” Tenbury said, “I suggest you enumerate them. What specific solutions do you have in mind?”

“Well, I don’t know,” she answered. “There must be something. We must think.”

“I did just that all day. If the solution Miss Waverly and I have chosen is agreeable to us, I fail to see what right you have to object.”

Arelia looked at Anne again, hoping to see in her eyes what she seemed unable to say. “If this is what you want, I certainly will not object. But I do not wish to see you made unhappy.”

“If you believe I would make her so, Arelia,” Tenbury said, “you have missed the mark.”

“I do not think you would intentionally do so, Tenbury, but marriage is—”

“Different things to different people,” he interrupted. “I suggest you confine your thoughts to your own upcoming nuptials and leave the concerns of ours to us.”

Arelia easily detected the edge to his words, a tone she recognized as one meant to silence her on the subject. She bit back her next response.

Tenbury turned to Anne, collecting her other hand. “I think we could both benefit from a few hours’ sleep. Pearce said he would meet us in the chapel at ten o’clock. Is that acceptable?”

She smiled tentatively and nodded.

“The chapel, then, at ten o’clock,” he said.

“I will be there.”

Anne and Arelia left the room together. Within a few minutes, Tenbury also went abovestairs to bathe and rest. He had been in the saddle for the best part of twenty-four hours. Warmed and refreshed by a hot bath, he stretched out upon his bed and was sound asleep within seconds.

Arriving at her room, Anne declined to rest. She had slept at the inn and in the coach. She insisted she was not tired and knew she would never sleep with her wedding only a few hours away. When Arelia, despite Tenbury’s warning, tried to question Anne further on the subject of her marriage, Anne burst into tears and was unable to answer.

Having shattered what little control Anne had left, Arelia was instantly remorseful. “I am so sorry. Tenbury warned me to say no more, and I should have heeded him. You have been through much more than anyone should have to bear—I promise I will not add to your distress. Come, we need to choose a gown for your wedding. What shall it be?”

Since Cassie had been unpacking for an hour, the two trunks were nearly empty. Anne’s gowns hung in a row in the wardrobe. Arelia drew forth an evening gown of ivory silk, decorated with row upon row of French lace.

Anne seemed not to care what she wore. When it came time to dress for her wedding, she stepped without comment into the chemise Cassie set out for her and then allowed herself to be laced into her stays and buttoned into the gown. With her hair dressed to Arelia’s satisfaction, she accompanied Arelia and Cassie to the drafty chapel in the oldest part of the Castle. It lacked two minutes before the hour of ten.

There had been insufficient time to properly warm the chamber, therefore the thick stone walls of the small chapel emitted damp, cold air. Slivers of pale moonlight penetrating the high, narrow windows did little to dispel the gloom. On the altar, however, many candles had been set. Their flickering light bounced off the uneven walls, casting eerie shadows. In the circle of light Dennis waited. Lady Tenbury sat with Jack in the first pew while Tenbury stood nearby, partially facing the door at the back.

He saw Anne the moment she entered and came immediately to meet her, taking her hand and threading it through his arm. “You look lovely,” he said as he smiled at her and led her down the aisle to where the others waited. “Mr. Pearce requested Cassie and Murdock as witnesses,” Tenbury explained.

When Dennis glanced at his betrothed and saw the concern in her face, he suddenly wondered if all was as Lord Tenbury had explained to him. He shifted his gaze to Anne. She was returning Lady Tenbury’s smile. The smile seemed genuine enough, yet there appeared to be a great deal of sadness behind it. Despite Lord Tenbury’s assurances of Anne’s compliance in the ceremony, Dennis felt constrained to speak. He stepped nearer to Anne. “Is it your wish, Anne, to wed Lord Tenbury?”

Looking him straight in the eye, without blinking, and with only the slightest tremor in her voice she said, “Yes, Dennis, it is.”

“Very well,” he said, addressing the group altogether, “Shall we begin?”

Chapter 20

The small group gathered before the altar, and Dennis began the familiar marriage ceremony. As he spoke each portion of the service, Tenbury and Anne made the appropriate responses—to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better, for worse, for richer, for poorer ...

When Tenbury took her hand to place the ring on her finger, he found that her hand was shaking. The ring was a family heirloom, one of many gold rings in the Tenbury collection. He slipped it over her knuckle, solemnly repeating the final words he needed to speak: “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow. In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

In a moment she would be his wife. It was what he wanted. Anne looked up to meet his eyes, and what he saw in them shook his resolution to its foundation. He knew that a bride should have joy and love shining in her eyes. As he looked at Anne he saw only strife, fear, and sadness. He was getting what he wanted, but she—she had been given no choice.

Through this maze of thought Dennis’s voice penetrated. “... have consented together in holy wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company—”

“Wait,” Tenbury interrupted, halting Dennis in mid sentence. Ignoring the others, looking only at Anne, holding her hands in a viselike grip, he said,

“I cannot do it. I thought I could ... but I cannot be sure ... and I will not force you.” Then he spoke to the others. “I must apologize for calling you here unnecessarily. Forgive me.”

Without another word to anyone he walked down the aisle and left the chapel. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing hollowly through the room.

None of those left behind spoke, none moved. They all stood as if turned to stone, all trying to understand what had happened. Tenbury had been the impelling force behind this ceremony: he had suggested it, ordered it, arranged it, taken control. Then, at the climactic moment he had called a halt.

The seconds dragged by. Anne stood with her head bowed, turning the ring on her finger. She had his ring but was no bride, no wife.

She looked up to find Dennis watching her and then turned quickly to Arelia, Lady Tenbury, and Jack. Anne was first to break the silence. “What did he mean? I do not understand. He was the one who insisted ...” When no one answered she asked, “Did any of you have his confidence? Do you know what he meant? What was he not sure of?”

Murdock nodded silently to Cassie and they withdrew to the back of the chapel, affording the others privacy.

It was Jack who finally answered Anne. “He told me earlier that he has been in love with you for some time, but he has never been certain of your feelings for him.”

“My feelings for him?” Anne echoed. “I have no idea what they are.”

“Then it is easy to understand why Tenbury is confused,” her ladyship said gently. “Is it true, Anne? Is he in love with you?”

“He has said he is, my lady,” Anne replied. “I cannot be certain if it is true.”

Here Arelia joined the conversation. “If Nate said he loves you, then he does. You must know him well enough to know he would never lie—especially about that.”

Perhaps he would not lie, Anne thought, but is not deceit the same thing? He did deceive me, for months. Then suddenly she realized she had forgiven him long ago. “He said he wanted to marry me even before the events of last night. I know I am not beautiful or accomplished like the women he admires—”

“My dear, dear girl,” Lady Tenbury interrupted, “You underrate yourself. Had Tenbury been seeking only superficial qualities in a wife, he would have married long since. He found in you something we have all seen, something rare. How willing were you to marry him tonight?”

“I agreed, but not willingly,” Anne admitted.

Her ladyship nodded knowingly.

“Then we have answers to the questions you asked,” Dennis offered. “At the last moment Lord Tenbury found himself unable to turn the unfortunate happenings of yesterday to his gain. Not certain of your feelings, he did not wish to force you into a marriage you might later regret.”

“It seems to me,” Arelia said gently, “that the next move is yours, Anne. What do you intend to do?”

“I don’t know.”

Dennis, who had recognized her regard for Ten-bury months ago, decided to give providence a shove. “I think we should finish the ceremony,” he said unexpectedly. Raising his voice he called Murdock and Cassie back to the front of the chapel.

“Can you finish without Tenbury?” Arelia asked, amazed that he should even suggest it.

“I certainly intend to,” he replied. “Tomorrow, when his lordship is more amenable, we shall do this last bit once again, just to be certain we get it right.”

Then, with all the pomp and ceremony he could muster in the absence of the groom, Mr. Pearce declared Lord Tenbury and Miss Waverly husband and wife.

Amid kisses and congratulations, done as if the groom were indeed present, Dennis placed a gentle kiss on Anne’s cheek and whispered in her ear. “I have given you some ammunition, Anne.
Go
to him and use it, and remember in all things to let your heart lead you.”

* * * *

When Anne scratched at Tenbury’s door and he snapped, “Go away!” she knew he thought her his valet, so she ignored the command. She opened the door instead and slipped inside, closing it quickly and leaning against it in trepidation. Tenbury was seated in a deep armchair near the fire. From where she stood, all she could see was his forearm and hand extended to hover over a glass of brandy on the table beside him.

Her slippered feet made no sound as she padded across the soft carpet toward him. Her gown, however, rustled quietly, and he turned his head in annoyance to see who dared disobey him. When he saw her, he rose quickly from the chair and turned to face her. He had removed his coat and waistcoat, and stood now in his shirt-sleeves. He had discarded his cravat, and his shirt lay open at the throat.

“You should not be here,” was all he said.

“No? I thought a wife was always welcome in her husband’s room.”

“You are not my wife, nor I your husband. Pearce never declared us so.”

“Oh, but he did,” Anne insisted. “Had you stayed to the end of the service, you would have heard it.”

His eyes narrowed, and she could see he was wondering what game she was playing at. “He could not finish the ceremony once I had gone,” he said unequivocally.

“But I have just told you that he did. And they all heard him—your mother, Arelia, Jack, Murdock, and Cassie.”

“It matters not what they heard. There was no valid marriage.” Walking to the brandy decanter, he refilled his glass.

“Then you did not mean the vows you swore tonight before God?” she challenged.

His eyes glinted angrily as he replied briefly, “Take care what you say, madam.”

“It is a simple enough question, sir. Either you meant what you swore, or you lied before God. Which was it?”

“I meant what I swore.”

“So I thought. Therefore it makes no difference to me whether the service finished or not. I heard your vows, and I wear your ring. In God’s eyes I am your wife.”

“Enough of this foolishness,” he said impatiently, “Why have you come?”

“I believe it is customary for a wife to spend her wedding night with her husband.”

“That may well be, but it is also customary for the husband to come to her, not
vice versa
.”

“I would not presume to argue with you, for you must understand these things better than I,” she replied. “But I happen to believe that were I to go to my room as you suggest, you would not come to me. Therefore, I hold my plan to be the better one.”

Walking to him, she deliberately turned her back. “You must help me out of this gown. As you can see, the buttons are at the back.”

Despite himself, Tenbury found his melancholy mood dissipating in the face of Anne’s uncharacteristic behavior. “You will catch cold at this game, my dear,” he warned. “You have not enough experience to play the part of bold fancy.”

She said nothing, but stood still before him, presenting her buttons. He half smiled as he reached to undo them, willing to take part, to a point, in her little charade. Yet as he slowly undid the gown, the soft scent of her hair rose to greet him. The slippery silk yielded beneath his fingers to expose her stays beneath. Then he was remembering the night at the pool, her vibrant body molded closely to his. With the last button opened, he slipped his hands under the gown and eased it off her shoulders, allowing his fingertips to gently caress her skin. She shivered involuntarily as the gown slithered over her hips and settled around her feet. Without asking he continued with the stays, deftly loosening the laces until the garment joined her dress on the floor. The petticoat followed next. She stood now in only her soft cotton chemise.

Probing gently in her hair, Tenbury removed the pins one by one, casting each in turn upon the table until her hair cascaded in heavy waves down her back. He then crossed to his chair by the fire and reseated himself, took a swallow from his brandy, and then set the glass aside and folded his arms across his chest, regarding her in the candlelight.

“You may proceed now, madam. I have conquered the difficult buttons and laces for you.”

Anne sat on the small couch opposite his chair and removed her delicate slippers. Next, she began to roll down her stockings, baring her shapely legs. When she finished she stood and laid the stockings neatly aside, then stooped to collect her other garments from the floor.